Chapter 135: Spirit Palace Main Hall

The Spirit Palace main hall was the central structure of the entire above-ground mausoleum, the largest in scale. Upon entering, the first thing we saw were the large stone pillar bases on both sides of the spirit path in the middle of the hall, spaced about five meters apart. I recalled the images of them using the "flying pulley" to hoist the coffin; everything here must have been hauled up, bit by bit, from what we now considered the most impossible cliff face.

In the darkness between the stone pillars, we could faintly make out large black lamp-slaves. Beyond them was pitch black. For some reason, when we shone our flashlights over there, there was no reflection at all, as if that area was just empty void. We didn't see any burial goods either.

Fatty struck a fire starter and tried to light one of the lamp-slaves. I told him not to—the fact that this building still stood without collapsing owed a lot to the low temperature. If we lit too many lamp-slaves and melted the ice crystals on the tile roof, it could cause small collapses, so better not.

We could only advance through the darkness by flashlight. The environment affected everyone; no one spoke, as if afraid of waking something in this spirit palace. The silence was terrifying, the air filled only with the echoes of our footsteps and the heavy breathing of those around us.

Ye Cheng, being the least experienced among us, couldn't help but say after a few steps: "Damn, it's so quiet. Why do I feel a chill? The more silent it gets, the more nervous I am. Let's talk, don't make it seem like we're sneaking around—."

Before he finished, Poker-face made a hushing gesture for him to shut up. Fatty whispered to Ye Cheng: "Don't you come up with stupid ideas. Aren't we exactly thieves? This little bro has sharp ears. If you talk, we won't hear if we step on a trap. Can you take the responsibility?"

Hearing that there might be traps here, Ye Cheng quickly covered his mouth and nervously looked around, afraid of some hidden dart flying at him.

Monk Hua said: "No need to be so nervous. This is a sacrificial hall. The Dongxia regime probably came here every year to pay respects, so the chance of traps is low. Besides, this place is pretty old, don't worry."

"Nonsense," Fatty said, wanting to retort.

I slapped him to tell him to mind his own business. He was the one who just told others to shut up, and now he wouldn't stop talking.

The ice dome outside was so thick that once sealed, it would be hard to reopen. The outer plank road had long been burned. This meant that after the spirit palace was sealed, no one intended to come back. Monk Hua must have known that, but there was no point in causing unnecessary panic over such things.

We continued forward. In less than five minutes, we reached the center of the spirit palace main hall. Ahead stood a jade platform, surrounded by several huge bronze vessels shaped like human-headed birds. On the platform was a large black statue. We had to look up to see it clearly. The statue was not of a person or a Buddha; it looked like a twisted pillar covered in lichen. No one could tell what it was; it looked very eerie.

Fatty asked Monk Hua: "What the hell is this? Isn't the spirit hall supposed to hold a seated statue of the tomb owner? Is the tomb owner shaped like this? This... isn't it a giant leech?"

Monk Hua said: "This might be the 'Eternal Heaven' figure, a heterodox form in Dongxia religion... their main deity."

"This god looks way too shoddy," Fatty murmured. "What's the difference from a washing mallet?"

I slapped Fatty again, telling him to watch his mouth. We were still on its turf; he wasn't afraid of instant karma.

However, I knew this eerie black totem wasn't the Eternal Heaven. Although I didn't know much about shamanism, I knew the Eternal Heaven had no form—it represented an omnipresent, infinite power, a kind of cosmic worship. Monk Hua was either messing with Fatty or covering up his own unease.

The environment here indeed gave a strange sense of tension. Except for Chenpi A'Si and Poker-face, who still wore their usual stony expressions, everyone else showed some signs of unease.

But if the spirit hall wasn't holding a deity shrine, it should hold a seated statue of the tomb owner. Could it be, as Fatty said, that the Dongxia royalty really looked like this? Impossible! This—this wasn't even human-shaped. It looked more like an evil god from Haitian voodoo. I'd seen one at an exhibition in Shanghai; their gods were indeed clumpy, like burnt rice crust, resembling giant mollusks.

Suddenly I recalled the records in the bronze fish: The Dongxia royalty were monsters dug out from underground. Could this be it? No way. This thing could be called a demon. I believed the Dongxia people wouldn't be stupid enough to acknowledge a clump of rice crust as their emperor.

If only I could see what was recorded in the other two bronze fish, I thought. Then I wouldn't have to guess so hard. I wondered when I'd get that chance.

As my mind wandered, Panzi called out to us: "Look here."

We turned around and found Panzi had climbed onto one of the bronze vessels. From the mouth of the human-faced bird, he carefully lifted out an object.

Panzi was also a troublemaker. I said nervously: "Watch out for traps."

Panzi nodded, carefully retrieving it. Soon, a gilded bronze monkey with green face and fangs was brought out, its body carved with countless strange patterns, like a tattooed little demon.

We were all curious—none of us had ever seen a vessel designed like this. Panzi jumped down, brought it to us, and we all gathered around to look. After examining it, all we could tell was that it was bronze; we couldn't make heads or tails of anything else.

In archaeology, this kind of thing is common. Burials are, on one hand, a strictly regulated occult science, and on the other, a personal matter of the tomb owner. Many tombs contain inexplicable burial goods. You can collect and study the standard items and get close to the truth, but the personalized items are left to guesswork. Many things appear only once in history, and aside from the tomb owner himself, no one can know their purpose.

Monk Hua checked the other four bronze vessels and found similar objects. He speculated that if this pillar was their main deity, the surrounding ones should be guardian beasts of the deity, probably related to very localized myths. We weren't from that era, so we couldn't understand the real situation. But what puzzled him was why they were bronze. The Ming Dynasty was already a well-developed iron age.

After checking around the totem and finding nothing, we moved further back. The rear was dark, with no telling how deep it went.

At this point I found it odd that the spirit palace main hall usually contained large sacrificial tripods and eternal candles, with warm alcoves, treasure beds, thrones, and spirit tablets. None of those were here. Strange. But circumstances outweighed forms. The Dongxia kingdom had always been holed up deep in the Changbai Mountains; who knew what their lifestyle was like. Maybe these things weren't part of Jurchen customs.

Fatty was getting impatient. His reason for coming was to grab stuff, but after all this way, he hadn't seen any portable burial goods. How could he not be frustrated? As we walked, he asked if he could go look behind the lamp-slaves, to see what was in the darkness beyond. Poker-face waved his hand to tell him no. He took out a glow stick and threw it to the side. A green light flashed and fell into the darkness behind the lamp-slave, then vanished instantly, as if thrown into black cotton. Fatty clicked his tongue and asked quietly: "What's going on?" Poker-face shook his head, indicating he didn't know.

I said to him: "From outside, the hall didn't seem this big. Our flashlights get no reflection. The walls must have light-absorbing paint. If you go off alone, I guarantee you won't find your way back. Better not act rashly."

Fatty said: "Then tie a rope around my waist. If I find something, I'll cut you in. Consider it a technical investment—ten percent, how about?"

I hated Fatty's attitude. I said angrily: "If you want to go crazy, wait till we get out. Don't drag us down now."

Panzi also said: "What's your rush, you bastard? We've barely gotten started. If you go in with a rope and come out with just a thigh left, what then? Do we go in after you or not? Look how united Old Mr. Chen's team is. Settle down, and don't disgrace our Third Master."

Fatty sighed and said disappointedly: "Fine, you guys outnumber me. Fat Master obeys the organization's arrangements. Before the enemy situation is clear, I absolutely won't betray the organization."

"And you're not allowed to betray even after it's clear. You're already trying to grab spoils now. What will you do when we enter the underground palace? How much can you carry?" I glared.

Fatty raised his hands in surrender, grinning. I knew his temper—nothing I said now would help. I couldn't control him, so I reminded myself to keep an eye on him so he wouldn't cause trouble.

Going further in, we saw the end of the hall. There was another jade door, made of four pieces of white jade inlaid together. The door hinges were coiled with glazed ceramic hundred-foot coiling dragons. The lintel had a relief of music and dance performances. The door was carved with two guardian boys. Behind the door, there was no self-pressing stone; the door had been sealed shut with ice. After we pried it open, we found a corridor leading to the rear hall of the spirit palace, pitch black.

Seeing the two dragons on the door, Fatty perked up again, his eyes lighting up. He said to us: "I saw a door like this at an auction. It's called a coiled-dragon-axle glazed bolt. The whole door was auctioned for two hundred million, in Hong Kong dollars! Hey, this door doesn't look that heavy..."

I knew what he was trying to stir up, so I poured cold water on him: "Don't bother. That's hype. In current cash antique deals, anything over 20 million is already a sky-high price. This door is worth at most 400,000."

"No way," Fatty didn't believe it. "400,000 hyped up to 200 million? Something that outrageous?"

I thought to myself that the two copper fish in my pocket were worth 20 million, but who would actually buy them if I tried to sell? Everyone knows the tricks of auction houses nowadays—they plan on no business for three years, then one deal that sets them up for life. If some greenhorn really paid 200 million for a door, his only job for the rest of his life would be spending money.

Fatty's worldview was instantly shattered by me. He stared at the door with a dazed expression. We ignored him and walked into the corridor, heading toward the rear hall.

The rear hall is generally where the entrance to the underground palace is located. Usually there would be a decorative coffin, lit with everlasting candles that never go out, or a large accumulation of sacrificial offerings regularly replaced by the tomb keepers. For a small, secretive border state like Dongxia, which was in a constant state of war, I figured there wouldn't be too many good things. Still, the entrance to the underground palace is usually set inside, so we had to go see.

Entering the corridor, the walls on both sides and the ceiling were all covered in murals, which were coated with a layer of ice, frozen into a gray blur. After seeing that piece of double-layered mural in the crack, I had become very interested in such narrative content, so I turned on my flashlight and looked.

But as soon as I looked, a chill ran through my body. On the murals, almost all were depictions of hundred-foot dragons coiling in mist and clouds—curled up, soaring—covering the entire wall. At first glance, it looked like they were crawling with centipedes.

The murals were divided into several sections. Some also showed many soldiers wearing fur robes, kowtowing to the hundred-foot dragons in the sky.

Others depicted two hundred-foot dragons entwined together, whether in mating or in combat was unclear.

In every mural, the hundred-foot dragon was inevitably the main subject, with the surrounding figures appearing extremely tiny and utterly humble. Clearly, the Dongxia people's worship of this centipede dragon surpassed even our Han Chinese worship of the coiled dragon. Ye Cheng pulled out a camera and photographed all the murals. This could be useful when selling the burial artifacts, since Dongxia was an uncertain regime; having photos of the tomb could multiply the price several times.

"Who do you think is buried in this accompanying tomb? Wan Nu's wife or his subordinates? Why are all these murals like this?" Ye Cheng asked while shooting.

I didn't know either, and I also felt something was off in my heart.

Generally speaking, the tomb owner of an accompanying tomb would be one of two types: either one's own offspring and relatives, or one's favored ministers. For offspring and relatives, the murals should mostly depict scenes of daily life; for favored ministers, scenes of court life, such as civil officials managing floods or military officials leading campaigns. Painting so many deified dragon forms—if seen in the main tomb, it might be normal, but here it's off. Moreover... the image of the tomb owner cannot be seen in the murals.

Even if the dragon is the main subject and these paintings emphasize its majesty, there should be a leader among those devoutly kowtowing below. Since it's an accompanying tomb, the leader would certainly be King Wan Nu, and the owner of this tomb should be serving at his side. But in the murals, all the people are dressed as slaves or soldiers, with no leader at all.

This is simply against all reason in imperial tomb murals. Murals that don't conform to the proper norms are equivalent to painting nothing here.

Fatty suddenly asked, "Could it be that the murals here are also double-layered?"

I touched them. Some of the murals here had already flaked off, and I didn't find any special surface underneath. I shook my head and said no. The mural in that volcanic fissure definitely had a story behind it; otherwise, having a double-layer mural in such a place would be inexcusable.

While I was lost in random thoughts, we walked about two hundred meters, and then the murals suddenly stopped. The corridor ended, and the exit to the rear hall appeared ahead.

There was no door at the exit, but in the center stood a bronze lampstand with crane legs, about half a person's height, with a very peculiar shape. A layer of white ice film had formed on it, making its color look somewhat dark.

We walked out of the corridor and entered the rear hall. Fatty lit a cold flare and looked around. He found that the layout of the rear hall was almost the same as the main hall, but much smaller. We could directly see the surrounding walls, which were still covered with countless hundred-foot dragon murals. Their colors must have been bright red originally, but now they had frozen into gray.

The rear hall was completely empty, with no burial goods at all. Not even a search was needed; it was clear at a glance. In the middle were placed three black stone beds carved with thunder patterns and coiled dragons. The platforms were covered with wooden frames carved with cloud borders, all of which had cracked from the freezing.

These are called coffin-resting platforms. After the coffins were carried in, they were temporarily placed here. There are three of them, which clearly indicates that at the time of encoffining, there was not just one coffin; the tomb owner's wife and children were also buried with him.

Being a sacrifice for the tomb owner's sacrifice—it sounds extremely unfortunate, but in that era, there was no way around it.

On the ground behind the three stone beds, there protruded a huge square stone slab. On the slab were carved two strange birds with human faces in a circular pattern, and in the center of the slab was a relief of the Taiji Bagua diagram. This is the tomb-sealing stone. The entrance to the underground palace must be beneath this slab.

Other than this, the rear hall really had nothing—empty to an excessive degree.

Fatty looked around and said, "That old Wan Nu is really stingy as hell. He's willing to spend money to build a house for his subordinates but unwilling to buy furniture. How are people supposed to live? He must have taken all the good stuff for himself."

Monk Hua said, "Don't talk nonsense. If he could build such a large tomb, would he begrudge a few sacrificial offerings? There must be some special reason for this, dammit."

I also felt it wasn't that simple. The situation in this rear hall was somewhat off. Even for a small border state, as we had anticipated, with insufficient national strength, a broken ship still has three nails. Even without gold or silver, there should at least be a few ordinary bronze vessels.

After another search, there were no passages leading elsewhere. We came to the side of the tomb-sealing slab. Fatty rolled up his sleeves, went up, and tried to lift it with all his might, but it didn't budge. He quickly called for others to help.

To guard against traps like poisoned sand or water under the stone platform, Poker-face carefully inspected the gray brick ground around the tomb-sealing slab. After confirming there was no problem, Lang Feng placed Shunzi on one of the coffin-resting platforms, and then he, along with Monk Hua, Ye Cheng, and the others, went to move the slab.

The strength of those burly men was no joke. With a cracking sound, the slab shifted slightly. They continued pushing and slowly moved the entire slab to one side.

We looked under the stone platform and were startled. There was no trace of a secret passage entrance (no stone strips sealing the tomb door) underneath, only the same gray bricks as around. However, because the slab had been pressing on it for a hundred years, there was a square imprint on the ground. When we rubbed it with our feet, it felt uneven; the gray bricks under the slab had been pressed down a few millimeters into the ground.

"What's going on?" Panzi wondered. "Is this tomb-sealing stone fake, just for show?"

"Impossible. This is the most basic burial style; no one would joke about this. The entrance must be right here," Monk Hua said.

"Could it be sealed beneath this layer of gray bricks?" Ye Cheng asked.

I frowned. These bricks didn't have iron mortar sealing them; it seemed a bit problematic, but if I had to draw a conclusion, I didn't know how to put it.

Fatty said, "Who cares? There's no one around. It's rare to get to rob an imperial tomb. Just tear up the bricks and see."

Ye Cheng immediately agreed. Actually, I was thinking the same. We couldn't really say we were tomb raiding anymore; we might as well call it outright looting. When grave robbing, you worry about disturbing nearby residents or running into patrolling police, but now the nearest police station was eight hundred li away. We had nothing to fear.

We all started secreting excess adrenaline. Digging and opening an underground palace is always an exciting moment; sometimes even opening a coffin isn't as tense as this moment. No one can deny that.

Poker-face crouched down, used his unusually long fingers to pinch a gray brick, and with a strong pull, yanked the brick straight out of the ground. Ye Cheng and Monk Hua watched in stunned amazement, their mouths hanging open.

Fatty was very proud, with a look on his face that said, "See that? Pretty impressive, huh?" But Poker-face didn't give him face, not even looking at him. Now that there was an opening, things were easier. We hurried over to help, using climbing picks to dig out the bricks.

What was strange was that the bricks below still had no trace of iron slurry—they were all interlocking structures and not difficult to dig out. My ominous feeling grew stronger, because the entrance to the underground palace is the most heavily fortified part. Back then, when Sun Mazi was digging up Empress Dowager Cixi's tomb, without explosives he couldn't even scratch the surface of the stone seal. Here we could lift the blue bricks so easily—it definitely wasn't right. Could there be some trick below?

But Poker-face didn't say anything. Usually if there was a problem he would notice it immediately. Since he didn't speak, I felt I didn't have the standing to say anything either.

In the time it takes to smoke half a cigarette, we quickly dug out a large pit. The last layer of blue bricks was removed; counting them, there were only seven layers. Probably because the height of the structure here was fixed, to avoid hitting the cave ceiling, they had to sacrifice some of the floor bricks. At the bottom of the pit, a black stone was revealed, which seemed to resemble a turtle shell covered with patterns.

"Is it a sealing stone slab?" Ye Cheng got excited.

"No." Monk Hua, who was at the very bottom, knocked on it, then removed all the bricks around the black stone. Beneath the bricks appeared a black double-headed stone turtle the size of an eight-immortal table. The patterns on the turtle's shell, as it turned out, were actually carved into the face of a woman.

"What's going on?" Everyone was puzzled. At the supposed entrance to the underground palace, there was actually a stone turtle buried.

"Why isn't there a tomb gate?" Panzi, who had just exerted the most effort, wondered while panting.

"Let's move it out first! See what's under the turtle." Monk Hua also couldn't figure it out and started giving haphazard orders.

Actually, without moving it I already knew there was definitely nothing under the turtle—I could see the black mountain rock beneath it. We had already dug to the bottom of the cave.

Several people jumped into the pit in a flurry, intending to lift the stone turtle. Just as they crouched down, Fatty let out an "Huh?" as if he had noticed something wrong.

I leaned in to look and saw that the entrenching tool hanging from Fatty's belt had somehow stuck to the turtle's back. Fatty pried it off with force, but when he let go, the tool was sucked back again.

I found it strange—could this turtle be carved from a magnet? Several people gathered around to look, all clicking their tongues in amazement. Fatty took out a coin and tossed it onto the turtle's back. With a clang, it stuck firmly. He muttered to himself, "Hey, isn't this damn funny? Such a big magnet—was the tomb owner a scrap metal collector?"

Chenpi A'si was resting up above. Seeing that we had discovered something, he thought we had found the entrance and asked what was going on. Monk Hua reported the situation to him.

Before he was even finished, Chenpi A'si's expression changed. He quickly had Ye Cheng help him down, walked over to the turtle, took out a compass from his pocket, and took a look. His face turned almost green. He slammed the compass down hard and said coldly, "Damn, we've been fooled! This accompanying tomb is a trap—we've fallen for it!"